


All I want for Christmas

by BarricadeKitten (Dominatrix)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enjolras is bad at giving presents, Established Relationship, Everything is fluff and nothing hurts, F/M, Fluff, Go you R, Grantaire tries to be a good boyfriend, M/M, Merry Christmas my kittens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 06:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2841740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dominatrix/pseuds/BarricadeKitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Combeferre is tired, Éponine is good at solving problems, and Grantaire has no idea what to get his boyfriend for Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All I want for christmas...

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my dear kittens,  
> I know this is a ridiculous little thing, but I was really in the mood for writing christmas-y stuff.  
> Merry Christmas to you if you celebrate it, and if not, have an awesome day anyway!  
> Love, Liz x
> 
> PS: Yes, I know that Enjolras probably despises the idea of a commercialised christmas, but let's just say he suffers through it for his friends. And it's also a nice way to have off at work and spend time with those you love :)

Combeferre groaned when the sharp noise pierced his ears and ripped him from peaceful sleep. Carefully, as to not wake Éponine, he untangled his arms from around his girlfriend to paw around on his nightstand for his phone, which was still ringing obnoxiously. He blindly pressed a spot on the screen to silence it and fell back into the pillows with a small huff. It was far too early to think, let alone talk.

About ten seconds later, his phone started ringing again, and Éponine shifted next to him with a low rumble of her voice. Heaving a sigh, Combeferre picked up this time, accidentally putting it on speakerphone. Without his glasses, he could barely see anything clearly.

“Hmm?” he mumbled, as eloquent as he could be at this ungodly hour.

“I knew you were awake! I knew it!” The voice was far too loud and agitated for Combeferre’s liking, and it took him a second to actually recognize who it was.

“Grantaire” he moaned while the man at the other end of the line kept on rambling, “what do you want?”

“I don’t know what to get Enjolras for Christmas.”

Ah. Now _that_ was a reason to wake up Combeferre at god-knows-what in the morning.

“You do realize that it is Christmas _today_ and you might be a bit late?” he said, as kindly as he possibly could. Éponine’s giggle next to him probably meant that he had been using his _Oh my god I am surrounded by idiots_ voice without really meaning to.

“Of course I know. That’s why I’m calling you!”

Combeferre groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose while he sat up, taking the majority of the blankets with him, which prompted an affronted noise from Éponine.

“Is there really nothing? Did you ask him what he wants?”

Grantaire laughed. “I did, actually. About a month ago, but he just got this really gloomy look in his eyes and said “world peace”. And then he proceeded to wax lyrical about how one day everybody would be free. And we kinda got into a fight. But then we had great make-up sex, which was not really a solution, but who am I to complain.”

Combeferre groaned again. It was not the right time for a conversation like this. Not that there would ever be a right time for this. There was only so much information a man could stand. Especially if it involved his best friend.

“Don’t get me wrong, Ferre, I would have gotten him something, but two months ago I still thought the best present to give him would be me stopping to come to meetings and just getting out of his life altogether. I didn’t quite expect for things to…work out.”

Actually, nobody had expected for these two to get their shit together after all. Of course there had been bets, and waggling eyebrows, and loads of innuendo (most of which Courfeyrac was to blame for, unsurprisingly), but the day they came to the Musain, hand in hand, had still been a surprise. Combeferre smiled through his deep yawn at the memory, and barely noticed how Éponine plucked the phone from his hands and started talking herself.

“Listen up you little shit, I’d appreciate if you stop angsting about everything. Please remember that your boyfriend gives the shittiest presents mankind has ever seen, so you will probably top that if you just put a tiny bit of thought into it.”

Grantaire was silent for a blissful second before he spoke up again. “He doesn’t really give that bad presents…”

Éponine shushed him. “He gave Ferre, his best friend since forever, oven mittens last year.”

“They were useful” Combeferre tried to defend Enjolras, but fell silent at Éponine’s glare.

“So just think of something you think he might need. Something which you can give him. I’m going back to sleep.”

She pressed _End call_ on the display and put the phone back on Combeferre’s nightstand, collapsing on top of her boyfriend when she sank back onto the bed.

“I hate our friends sometimes” she mumbled into his neck and felt his arms tighten around her body.

“Me too, Ép. Me too.” Humming contentedly when Combeferre kissed her temple, she snuggled closer to him.

“Oh, and Ép?”

“Yea” she replied sleepily, already drifting off.

“Merry Christmas. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”


	2. ...is you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let there be fluff.
> 
> PS: I'm currently in the mood for filling prompts, so if you have an idea you want written (or if you just wanna talk. I love talking to people) tell me at bagginshield-ruined-my-life.tumblr.com :)  
> Love, Liz x

When Enjolras came home that night, he was in a really bad mood. A _there was a middle-aged woman at work who tried to pick me up eventhough she is married and I couldn’t tell her I had a boyfriend just because she might be homophobic and manage to get me kicked out_ kind of bad mood. There were far too many people on the train, and especially loads of kids.

It wasn’t that Enjolras didn’t like kids.

They were just so loud, and small, and always turned up in huge groups, and they didn’t have any feeling for public decency like shutting your mouth instead of screaming excitedly just because it was Christmas.

Okay, so maybe Enjolras didn’t like kids.

The only exception of this rule was Gavroche, Éponine’s brother, and he didn’t really count because he was barely a child anymore. He surely didn’t act like one, though he was only about ten years old.

Of course it started drizzling the second he stepped out of the train, because that was just his luck, and he felt the dampness on his skin, a cold itch he couldn’t scratch because his hands were full with files and boxes. Grantaire – and probably every sane person on this planet – would scold him for taking work home over Christmas, especially since he was only interning there and was not actually being paid.

Add to this the occasional _Last Christmas_ on the radio, in the office or as somebody’s ringtone, and it was understandable why Enjolras just wanted to flop down on his bed, face down, and never ever get up again.

He started to regret that he texted Grantaire to come over and just let himself in with the spare key. Not because he didn’t want his company, but Enjolras was really sure that Grantaire would be better off without _his_ company.

They were still in their first phase as a couple, where everything was new and exciting, and Enjolras didn’t really want to break the news that he could be a grumpy, annoying man who just wanted to hide in his bedroom with Chinese take-out and Netflix until this horrible time of the year was over.

Above all, he started to get drenched, because he took his coat off to shield the files in favour of shielding his own body. Yes, that’s how insane he was.

When he opened the door, he breathed a sigh of relief. This was home. A nice, un-christmas-y apartment with sharp edges and nothing out of place. Well. Almost. The kitchen looked like a circus has paraded through it, and left all of their rubbish behind. Enjolras heaved a sigh. It smelled heavenly, though.

Enjolras managed to put all the boxes down next to the entrance without spilling their contents and had just opened his mouth to call for Grantaire when he caught sight of his boyfriend on the couch, apparently sleeping. He had a peaceful expression on his face, and – Enjolras had no idea why – a big red bow in his hair, the one you usually put on presents.

Deciding to let him sleep for a while longer, Enjolras walked into his bedroom to change out of his wet work clothes into something more comfortable. Blowdrying his hair until it wasn’t framing his face with wet streaks anymore gave him a bit of his life spirit back, and when he emerged from the bathroom, he almost felt human again.

He had barely thought about whether he should wake up Grantaire when the other man’s alarm clock took the decision for him. With an amused expression, Enjolras watched his boyfriend stretch like a cat before he ruffled through his hair, nearly ripping off his bow, and stood. Grantaire let out a noise close to a yelp when he turned to find Enjolras standing directly behind the couch.

“What the actual fuck, Enjolras. You can’t just creep in on me like that!”

The blonde man couldn’t help the smile spreading on his face, but did the best he could in sounding unimpressed and indifferent.

“Last time I checked, this was my apartment.” There was a definite spark of mischief in Grantaire’s eyes at these words, and Enjolras was glad. Glad that apparently today was a good day for his boyfriend.

“Didn’t really mean to fall asleep, y’know, but your sofa’s just so damn cosy” he said, still more asleep than awake, and yawned so wide Enjolras could count his teeth.

“I just thought I could use the time before the…” Seemingly remembering something, Grantaire all but jumped over the couch, nearly falling flat on his face because one of his feet caught at the headrest, and raced to the kitchen before ripping the oven door open and wheezing a relieved sigh.

“Well, that was close” he mumbled, more to himself.

Enjolras, ever-curious, who had followed him into the kitchen and was now leaning against the door frame, cocked an eyebrow. “R, what is going on?”

“I made dinner. You sounded a bit off in your text, so I told Les Amis not to wait up for us. I mean we can go if you want to, of course, but I thought you might like some quiet time. But if you…”

Enjolras crossed the space between them with just a few strides, cupping Grantaire’s face in his hands and placing a soft kiss on his lips.

“Stop fidgeting. It’s fine.” He saw Grantaire blink in confusion when he pulled away a bit. This gentleness was still new to both of them, but they tried their best.

“Okay” the dark-haired man said slowly, as if he needed to sort out his thoughts. Which he did. His boyfriend’s behavior was more than just a tiny bit different from the usual. Enjolras knew that he was not the one for overwhelming displays of affection. He did his fair share of cuddling, but not that much more. He was just too used to being on his own. Sleeping in the same bed as Grantaire still proved to be a challenge, as he mostly hogged all the blankets and spread out like a starfish. But Grantaire didn’t complain, only cocked an eyebrow when he woke up in the morning to find Enjolras all but on top of him completely, nearly crushing his rib cage.

“And please don’t take this as me judging your life choices, but why are you wearing a shiny, red bow?”

Grantaire reached up to touch said bow, and an almost sheepish smile crossed his features. “Don’t you want to have dinner first?”

Enjolras snorted. “And look at you wearing that thing the whole time? I don’t think I’d be able to appreciate your cooking. What were you making, anyway?”

“Lasagna” Grantaire replied, playing with the slim bracelets on his left wrist until Enjolras stilled him by putting his own hands on top of his boyfriend’s fingers.

“R” he said in such a soft voice that Grantaire’s eyes snapped up to meet his own.

“Right, so this is possibly the wrost present you have ever gotten, because there is no one who would want me as a gift, but yea.”

R pointed at the red bow attached to his dark curls, gaze unsure and shy.

“You’re getting me for Christmas. Not in a weird, kinky way, I swear. Though that could be negotiated. Just…You are doing so much for everybody around you, and you fight so many battles at once. This is kind of my shitty way of saying that I will be right beside you. I will be with you, and try my best to support you. If you want that.”

Enjolras needed a moment until he found his words, and when he finally did, his boyfriend didn’t quite let him finish. “R, this…”

“I know that it’s a shit present because you can’t just give a person to somebody and it’s immoral and everything, God knows I listened to that rant of yours many times than necessary, but I want you to know that I am yours. For as long as you want me, I’m yours.”

Enjolras was not often lost for words, but now there was nothing for him to say. He couldn’t think of anything which would be appropriate, so he just stared at Grantaire, wide-eyed, and making him more and more uncomfortable by the second. In the end, he broke the silence after all.

“This is the best present anybody has ever gotten me.”

Grantaire’s whole face split into a grin, eyes lighting up beautifully. He took a step towards Enjolras, taking his hands and pulling them up to his chest. “Better than the original print of The Social Contract that Combeferre gave you a few years ago?” he mumbled, voice warm and joyful.

Enjolras grinned, pulling their joined hands to his lips and kissing Grantaire’s knuckles. “Yes. Although that is a close second. But this, R. This is perfect. This is all I want for Christmas. Just…you.” He was completely aware that he sounded like the heroines from the rom-com movies he so openly despised, but it was true. There was no place he’d rather be right now, no person he’d rather have around.

“Did you just quote Mariah Carey to me?” Grantaire asked with a look in his eyes that was half shock and half amusement. Enjolras grimaced when he replayed the exact words in his head.

“I might have done that” he admitted, scowling and scrunching up his nose.

Grantaire’s face had rarely been so bright, his blue eyes full of mischief. “I’m so gonna tell Courf about that.”

Enjolras chuckled, but tried to glare at Grantaire all the same. “Don’t you dare.”

The dark-haired artist pulled him even closer until their foreheads touched, his voice gentle and mocking at the same time when he spoke again. “Oh, try and stop me.”


End file.
